


Artistic Inclinations

by cecilantro



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 21:25:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14505783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: They return to silent work for a while, Caleb enjoys the quiet company, it’s so unusual for Molly to be silent that it would be jarring, if it hadn’t been thoroughly discussed beforehand.





	Artistic Inclinations

Molly goes over his line a few more times, thickening it with great care to avoid the ink bleeding too much. Caleb, at his side, hums contentedly as he flashes a quick glance.   
“You have been spending time with Jester.” He says, quiet to match the noise of the tavern, filtering up from below. It’s only them in the room, but the atmosphere is cosy, warm from the fire of the nearby lantern, and Caleb has no desire to change that.   
“How can you tell?” Molly smiles, a little lopsided as he moves onto the next stroke, a curved one. His subject  _ mrrp _ ’s in front of him and stretches.   
“Shush.” Caleb calms, “Mollymauk is trying to draw you.”   
Frumpkin settles down into the same position, and Molly checks to make sure Caleb’s quill isn’t at his paper before bumping his shoulder gently.    
“You are picking up her lining style,” Caleb points at the thicker lines around the outside of Frumpkin. Molly’s eyes follow his finger, and he gives almost a purr of surprise and pleasure,   
“You’re right!” He beams, and scribbles the last little bit of Frumpkin’s back. “I wonder what Jester would think.”   
“She would be honoured that you have taken inspiration from her.” Caleb smiles at his paper and re-dips his quill, jolting as Molly’s knuckles bump his own in the inkwell.   
They return to silent work for a while, Caleb enjoys the quiet company, it’s so unusual for Molly to be silent that it would be jarring, if it hadn’t been thoroughly discussed beforehand. He and Molly have been talking about working like this for a week, searching for the time, part of Molly’s campaign to get to know Caleb better and earn bits of his trust. Molly has become even more desperate for it since learning that he’d misjudged Caleb and accused him of stealing from the group, he still can’t shake the way that Caleb had looked at him out of the corner of his eye, with hurt and the first spring of tears, and how much Molly had warred within himself. Half angry, furious that someone, part of their  _ family _ would hurt them like this again, and half softened by feelings he fights away, the half that wanted to bundle Caleb into a hug and kiss him and tell him he’s sorry, everything would be okay.   
“Mind on the work, Mollymauk.” Caleb breaks their silence as Molly’s quill stalls and a droplet of ink threatens to fall over the careful detail of Frumpkin’s back stripes. Molly swears under his breath in  _ Zemnian _ , of all languages, and swipes his thumb at the tip to catch the droplet before it falls. He presses his inked thumb to the corner of the page, and when he looks up at Caleb, the wizard has flushed bright pink from ear tips to the bridge of his nose.   
“Caleb?” Molly asks, alarmed.   
“You- that was… Zemnian. You spoke in Zemnian.” Caleb manages to splutter out, and it’s Molly’s turn to flush. And on Molly, it’s a sight worthy of the label  _ divine _ , it could be only a gift from the Gods, his lavender skin darkens to red-violet and it begins at the tip of his ears and the bridge of his nose and spreads like bleeding ink.    
Molly shrugs it off, nonchalant, re-dips his quill and moves back to Frumpkin’s tail and the thick outlines there.   
“It’s a trait of mine to pick up those of others.” He says simply, “Those that I  _ care about _ .” He adds and emphasises, and picks the quick from the page to look at Caleb out of the corner of his eye.   
He’s no less red, if anything, he’s more so, staring at Molly with his lips parted slightly in shock and his eyes wide, there’s so much blue that Molly swears he could fall into the sky.   
Molly sighs, gives up on the Frumpkin drawing, and sets the quill down. He turns, fully, to Caleb, and takes  _ his _ quill, sets  _ that _ down, and takes Caleb’s hands in his own.   
“Are you with me, there?” Molly half-smirks, and Caleb blinks, surprised, and looks between their hands and Molly’s face. He stays quiet and shocked. Molly gives a quick breath of laughter and looks at the papers,   
“Oh, I think this is a lost cause. Come on.” He stands and pulls, and Caleb comes, pliant in his hands, as Molly walks backward until they’re beside Caleb’s bed.   
Molly turns Caleb by his shoulders and pushes.   
Caleb flumps onto the bed.   
Molly sits next to him. He lifts an arm in offering, and Caleb leans into his shoulder, rests his head carefully and exhales, hard.   
“So,” Molly drawls airily, “This isn’t a normal reaction to someone telling you that they care about you.”   
“No.” Caleb agrees, distantly, “It is not.”   
“Is there something wrong?” Molly squeezes the arm around his shoulders, and feels Caleb shake his head minutely. He hums in concern, “I don’t think that’s quite true.”   
“You are most likely correct.” Caleb’s tone is just a little amused, maybe bitter. “I think that there is something wrong, and that something is me.”   
“Oh, no, no.” Molly pulls away and sets his hands on Caleb’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length and scrutinising him, “ _ Ab- _ solutely not. None of that.”   
“It’s true, though, Mollymauk.” Caleb shrugs, his head hangs, Molly takes hold of his chin, and Caleb makes a valid effort not to look at him. “I have made some big mistakes in my life, and those prevent me from acting, functioning,  _ being _ a normal person. I cannot process things in the right way.”   
“You can’t process things at all.” Molly says levelly, “Will you fucking look at me when I’m trying to find an opening to profess my undying love, Caleb?”   
It works. Caleb looks at him, lightning shock down his spine, forces him to meet Molly’s eyes. And Molly smirks.   
“Ah.” Caleb shakes himself free of Molly’s hands and slides back. “Another joke, I see, to try and force me to open up to you.”   
“I don’t want to  _ force you _ to do anything.” Molly leans forward, elbow to his thigh and chin in his hand, “And there’s no jokes around me right now, unless Jester pinned a  _ do not kick _ sign to my back when she hugged me.”   
“Mollymauk.” Caleb looks like a rabbit by torchlight, shocked at the sudden threat to his life, “You have just told me, something along the lines of, a confession of love.”   
Molly blinks serenely,   
“Yes? I thought you knew anyway, to be honest. I don’t try to make myself subtle, doesn’t suit my,” He gives a wiggle, waves at himself and smiles in his mischievous way, “Image.”   
“I- I- I was not aware, no. You are acting as though you have just told me that water is wet, rather than…” he trails off and Molly shrugs a little.   
“It doesn’t change anything.” He says idly, then startles and looks at Caleb, “Well. It might, if it irks you, but nothing will me will change. If you were comfortable with the way that we were before my confession, I suppose, nothing will change. I wouldn’t want to back you into something you don’t want.”   
“What if-” Caleb starts, and cuts himself off. Molly blinks slowly at him, and twirls a finger to encourage him to continue. He swallows and tries again, “What if I, I, I wanted things, to change?”   
“I’ll do whatever makes you the most comfortable.” Molly sits up and backs off, a little bit, “What do you want to change?”   
“I,” Caleb swallows and summons his own personality from behind his anxieties, “I want to change the fact that you are not currently kissing me.”   
Molly’s small smile cracks into a bright grin,   
“Are you sure? I don’t want to find you doing things you don’t want in order to please me.”   
“Mollymauk.” Caleb’s tone turns low and threatening, “If you do not kiss me  _ right now _ , I’ll,” He looks over to the abandoned papers in an attempt to find a threat, and when he turns back, Molly has moved so close he’s barely an inch away.   
Caleb closes the last gap and presses his lips to Molly’s, doesn’t even register when his fingers tangle in hair and press closer, barely registers when Molly tugs them down to the bed and Caleb finds himself hovering above Molly, gasping for air.   
“Aren’t you a sight?” Molly smiles up at him, half-lidded, he lifts a hand to stroke at Caleb’s cheek.   
“I could second that opinion for  _ you _ .” Caleb manages between deep breaths.    
Whilst Caleb is lit from behind with the firelight turning his red hair to glimmering copper, Molly’s is scattered around him, loose curls in a halo on the off-white sheets of the bed underneath him.   
Molly’s fingers curl around the back of Caleb’s head and he pulls the wizard back down to kiss him again.


End file.
